


The Prince's Ball

by tgtwDA (theghoulthatwrites)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theghoulthatwrites/pseuds/tgtwDA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Alistair hated parties. He hated the woman thrown at his feet, begging for his attentions. But this time there is a certain woman who catches his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Prince AU

Alistair hated parties. Especially parties thrown by his brother, King Cailan. But as the prince, Alistair was required to put in an appearance when he would rather be outside with his mabari or literally anywhere but a ballroom. It wasn't that he couldn't dance; in fact, he could dance quite well. It was the insufferable number of mothers and fathers practically throwing their daughters at his feet.

Tonight's ball was much the same as all the others, except this one was in Alistair's honor. It was a ball celebrating his twenty-first birthday and he was therefore unable to excuse himself after the proper number of dances. This time he was the center of attention, aside from his brother and sister-in-law. Queen Anora was adamant that Alistair be a proper host for his own ball.

The grand ballroom was alit with thousands of lanterns hanging from the rafters and standing on tall posts. The decorative drapes were of a dark brownish-red color and gold, the Theirin clan colors. Alistair himself was dressed in much the same livery as the ballroom; his finely cut tunic was the same red-brown as the drapes, trimmed with gold and the Theirin lion was embroidered onto his chest. He felt much like a prized possession, put on display by his overbearing sibling.

He stood beside his brother, dressed in gold, watching the throngs of guests line up to greet the King and prince. Alistair wondered if he knew any of the guest personally for he certainly did not recognize most. There was a family few and far between that had close relations with his brother, but the majority of the guests were nobles from further lands than Alistair had jurisdiction of. He sighed, already wishing the evening were over though it had just begun.

-

Joline grumbled under her breath as she was pulled into line by her mother, ready to greet the king of Ferelden and his younger brother. She would have much rather been back in Highever with her mabari Schaffer, running across the lands on horseback. Instead her parents had received an invitation from the king personally to attend a ball thrown in honor of the prince's birthday.

Being young and unmarried, Joline was considered an eligible candidate for the prince's wife. Or so her mother Eleanor had said. Joline had no desire to meet the no doubt snobby prince of her country, she generally detested other nobility. They had a habit of allowing their status to go to their heads, making them feel more important than the lower class citizens of the country.

Joline was raised to respect the lower class; that she was only better in title but not personality. She was taught to always help the needy and those less fortunate than her. And so she did; she helped at the local Chantry orphanage and made meals for those too sick or poor to eat. But now she was being forced to act as if those people meant nothing to her, for the sake of impressing some pampered prince.

"Joline, dear, do stop scowling. You will give the prince the wrong impression," Eleanor chided her daughter. She held fast to Joline's hand, knowing full well that her daughter would take off the moment she was allowed.

"And what impression is that, Mother?" Joline shot back. "That I was forced to attend a ball to meet this spoiled prince? That I am to be paraded in front of him like a prized horse? Woe is me to allow the glorious prince to think such things!"

"Joline Julianna Cousland, you will not say such things in front of His Majesty and His Highness!" Eleanor snapped, pinching her daughter hand. "You are to be on your best behavior as I have taught you; you are no longer back home where you were allowed to run rampant."

"Ouch!" Joline snatched her hand from her mother's grasp, rubbing the spot pinched. Before she could retort rather disrespectfully, her father stepped between them.

"Now, my dears, it is not the time to get into another one of your arguments," he said placating. He put a hand on each of their shoulders softly, smiling. "Your mother only wants you to have a fair shot a better life, pup, you know that."

Joline sighed. She did know that, but she didn't like it. She didn't understand why her mother was so intent on marrying her off to the first acceptable man. 

"Come, you two, it is almost our turn to greet the honored guest of the night." Bryce gently turned his wife forward, allowing Joline a small bit of freedom from her overbearing mother.

Joline smoothed the front of her dress, hiding the fact that she had been fiddling with the decorative beads all night. Despite her reluctance to be here, Joline was pleased with her appearance. She had picked a dress in her favorite color; a dark red dress glittering with black beads and elegant flounces. Her black hair was curled and piled onto her head, a few tendrils escaping their holds and falling around her ears and neck. 

She did not fail to notice that she was the only female dressed in such a color. The other women were dressed in demure pastels and innocent hair falling down their backs. Leave it to Joline to be the one woman to stand out in a sea of others. 

Lost in her thoughts, Joline didn't notice when their turn to greet the hosts had arrived until her father's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Allow me to introduce my youngest, Joline." Bryce places a hand on the small of Joline's back, guiding her to his side gently.

Joline curtsied, lowering her head respectfully. She greeted the king and queen first. "Your Majesties." 

"Please, Miss Cousland, raise your head. My wife and I are not so traditional that you cannot look us in the eye," King Cailan laughed. Cailan softly took her hand and bowed his head over it. He waited until Joline rose from her curtsy and lifted her eyes to his before continuing. "May I introduce my younger brother, Prince Alistair."

"Your Highness," Joline muttered, bowing her head slightly in the direction of the prince.

There was a moment of silence before the prince stuttered his greeting. "OH- uh- ... Miss Cousland."

Joline bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. The great pampered prince had seemingly forgotten his manners as he did not take her hand in his, as was customary. She raised her head to find that the prince's cheeks were stained pink and he was looking decidedly away from her. Joline wondered if the high and mighty prince was always so flustered.

-

Alistair excused himself from his brother once he had been introduced to the guests of the ball. He escaped onto the terrace to catch some peace and quiet, along with some fresh air.

As he gazed out into the gardens below, his thoughts wandered back to the Cousland daughter he met earlier. He had been taken aback by her beauty. Most noble women these days wore minimal makeup and pale colors that all seemed to blend together after a while. But Joline Cousland had stood out from her female counterparts. Her bright green eyes where rimmed with black kohl, forming a wing on her eyelid. Her lips were covered in a deep red rouge, matching her daringly colored gown. And her hair. Alistair wanted to run his fingers through the soft looking stuff, removing the curls from their precarious pile on her head.

Alistair didn't notice when another stepped out onto the terrace with him and he subconsciously retreated further into the shadows to avoid being detected. He watched as she removed the pins from her hair and let the dark tresses tumble down her back, perfectly curled. It took an immeasurable amount of self-control on his part to keep from reaching out to touch it.

He heard her sigh as she ran her fingers through her hair, transforming the curls into tousled waves. Part of him felt as though he should not be seeing her in this way, completely relaxed while she thought she was alone. He almost announced his presence when a mabari barked from below and she leaned over the railing to get a better look.

"Schaffer! What are you doing here?" She hissed to the mabari. She raised her head to look from side to side, making sure her parents nor the royals would see what she was about to do.

To Alistair's amazement, she hiked her skirts up above her knees and threw one leg over the railing. She landed on the grass with a small "oomph!" and attended to the strange mabari.

"You're supposed to be back in Highever with Fergus. Don't tell me you followed us?" 

Alistair slowly creeped towards the railing and peeked over it. Joline was sitting on the grass, without a care for her beautiful gown, with a large mabari head in her lap. The mabari was rolled onto his back, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Alistair watched as Joline's delicate hand scratched the mabari's ears roughly.

He was too enraptured at the sight of Teryn Cousland's daughter with a mabari that he did not notice when she turned her head to look up at the terrace. Too slow in his reaction time, Alistair was unable to hide himself from her gaze.

"Your Highness!" Joline gasped and scrambled into a standing position, giving a fitful curtsy. Her cheeks were stained red as Schaffer simply stood and leaned against his master. "I- uh- this is-"

Alistair cleared his throat, silencing the floundering girl. He mustered all the courage he could and spoke. "Is that your mabari, Miss Cousland?"

"Um, yes, he is. He must have followed me all the way from Highever..." Joline rested a hand on the mabari's head. Schaffer barked excitedly. "I'm very sorry, I will fetch my father immediately and ask for assistance."

"Nonsense, mabari are always welcome at the palace." Alistair hopped over the railing, landing expertly beside Joline and the mabari. "He can join the other mabari in the kennels."

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but Schaffer does not do well in a kennel..." Joline wringed her hands in front of her, unsure of what to do with the prince standing so close to her. "He was not trained to stay in a kennel."

"I see..." Alistair pondered the situation silently for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Then he shall stay in the garden until the ball's end. Is that acceptable with his owner?"

"Um, yes, Your Highness, it is," Joline nodded quickly. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"If you are so ready to give thanks, might I request a dance from the lovely lady?" Alistair stepped back and bowed from the waist, his hand held out to her.

"We are not in the ballroom, Your Highness, and I am afraid I am no longer dressed appropriately for it." Joline looked down at her dress; there were grass stains from sitting and paw prints of mud marring the beautiful fabric. Not to mention that she had let her hair loose before so brazenly jumping over the terrace railing.

"You do not require a ballroom for a dance, my lady. If you would do me the honor of a more... Private dance under the moonlight?" Alistair couldn't believe what he was saying. It was unlike him to act so confident in the presence of a beautiful woman. "We just so happen to have a perfect chaperone for the occasion." He nodded towards the mabari, sitting back on his haunches.

Joline looked back to the terrace, knowing there was no reason for her to refuse the prince of Ferelden. Not without being rude anyway, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his. "I suppose there are worse things I could do then dance with Your Highness."

Alistair tightened his hold on her hand and drew her close. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, bringing her even closer to his chest. She was short, barely reaching his chin, but she seemed to fit so well into his arms. The smell of her perfume permeated his senses; she smelled of roses. A smell most befitting of her appearance.

Joline rested her hand on his shoulder and let the prince guide her in the steps of the waltz playing from the open terrace doors. She stared straight ahead into his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. She realized that he smelled of the outside and leather, as if he spent more of his time outdoors than in. Behind her, Schaffer let out a breath and laid in the grass, watching his master dance with the prince.

She lifted her eyes and shyly peeked at the prince, surprised to find him gazing down at her. Cheeks pink, she met his amber gaze with her own green one. He did not have the dull eyes of a bored prince, she realized. Rather his gaze was alert, taking in the world around him critically, including herself. She saw her own reflection in his eyes, and quickly lowered her head. It was more embarrassing than she realized to be alone with the prince. She wondered if her mother would disapprove of her being alone with the prince or be excited that there might be an impending marriage on the horizon.

The pair danced in the moonlight, swaying back and forth with the music. Neither said anything, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. 

Alistair hated parties. But this one had turned out more enjoyable than he first thought. He made a mental note to thank his brother for inviting Teryn Cousland and his family.


End file.
